


Scream for Me

by Esyla



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Jordan called Kyle because, Light Bondage, Mild Blood, Multi, Over stimulation, Pydia, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, demon king, mentions of previous character death, sex outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esyla/pseuds/Esyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two ways to summon the Demon King. The first way involves a crossroads in fall, candles, ropes, a bottle of bourbon, and fresh spilled blood. </p>
<p>The second way involves dark chocolate, candles, silk ropes, a bottle of sixty year old port, three goblets, a groove in the forest, and the taste of sex.</p>
<p>Most choose the first way. Lydia chooses the second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scream for Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnitedKingdomOrgy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnitedKingdomOrgy/gifts).



> This is not beta'd. I have dyslexia so there are bound to be mistakes I missed.
> 
> I had a dirty dream and this is the result of that dream and some previous Pydia head cannons. 
> 
> There is some mild dub-con in this because no one explicitly says they are okay with what's going on but everyone seems to be enjoying all the fun. Just incase that's a problem for anyone. 
> 
> Ringtone from Black Magic by Little Mix.

There are two ways to summon the Demon King. The first way involves a cross roads in fall, candles, ropes, a bottle of bourbon, and fresh spilled blood. It’s the way most people take when they wish to seek favor with the most powerful being of the underworld. He had bathed in rivers of blood when he had walked freely upon the earth. Killed his own sister to claim his throne.

The problem with the first way is it brings him to this world regardless of whether he wants to come or not. It forces him from his stronghold among the evil dead to the mortal plane and he is never truly please to be forced to do anything. The gifts he gives are always laced with a price to pay. He will grant you power but at the expense of something you hold dear.

Lydia chooses the second way. The way that many are too weak to choose. Her way is more elegant and a much better fit for her needs. If he comes freely when she calls he will grant her wish without needing a price that will cripple her. Lydia is prepared to pay the kind of price this summoning will require, in every way.

The chocolate had been the hard part. Store bought wasn’t good enough for the ritual. It needed to be made with a higher cocoa percentage than normally sold, and hand stirred during a blood moon. It had to be dried in single small dollops that looked almost like a cross between a Hersey’s kiss and wafer.  The other ingredients had been child’s play really. Candles made in the traditional fashion with animal fat; bought from some hipster place that was all about getting back to the old ways. Silk rope in a milky white; found online within seconds. Finding a Port that had been made over sixty years ago was not a real hardship; she already belonged to many wine clubs and simply had to go to an auction. The three cups found on Etsy from different stores.

All that was left was to wait for a moonless night and go to the woods. Then she would ask her wish to the only one who could grant it.

* * *

 

It was a chilly night. Not so bitterly cold that she was frozen to the core but with a wind that left her skin ridged like goose flesh. Lydia has spent an hour clearing leaves and twigs from the mossy ground. That wasn’t part of the ritual; she simply didn’t wish to have them dig into her skin throughout the night.

Lydia had chosen this spot carefully. The text hadn’t been specific about where the ritual needed to take place only that it should feel as old as what she was about to do, as ancient as the type of congress that had existed before the dawn of time.

Candles formed a large ring around Lydia as the night turned inky. It was supposed to be a clear night but clouds had rolled in as the sun set blocking out even the stars’ light. The grove in the wood felt private with the soft light of thirteen candles burning, their musky sent filling the space.

She checked everything one final time before she began. Two lengths of rope sat at either side of her, long enough to be tied around someone, to bind hands and feet. The knots had taken time to learn but Lydia was fairly certain she would have no trouble with the rope. Beyond the ropes sat the unopened bottle of Port and three glasses one of crystal, one of stone, and one of wood.

A deep secret part of her was afraid of what she was about to do, but Lydia would not falter now. Everything was just the way it should be. She had gone to the salon today and had her hair cut and styled, received a two hour massage, waxed her skin to a hairless smooth.

The lipstick selection had been the hardest part really. What did one wear to greet the king of the underworld? Red felt tired. Orange had never been her color. A berry was too… close. In a moment of inspiration she had found the small pot the hipster has given her to try. A moisturizing lip tint made from honey and crushed cherries. It was not much color in the end but the taste it had convinced her it was the right choice.

The hour grew late and Lydia knew it was time. She removed her dress and folded it neatly in the bag outside the circle. Her shoes came off as well. Her bra and thong placed on top of the dress in the bag. She stood completely naked in the crisp air and shuddered momentarily at the true vulnerability she felt in that moment. No wonder this was the less preferred ritual.

Lydia grabbed the container of chocolate and returned to the center of the circle. She laid down so that one rope rested an arm’s length above her head and the other just beyond her toes. The moss was cool and wet against her bare back. Slightly unpleasant and rocky in places but it was too late to dig out the rocks.

She sighed and took a single drop of chocolate out of the container and placed it on her tongue. The taste was unique and seductive. Darkness melting on her palate. It warmed her in a way she had not expected. When the first drop melted she placed a second on her tongue, and moved her other hand lower on her body.

Lydia took her time with this part. She was experienced enough in her own skin to know that going right for it never worked. The men who tried that never got to come back for a second attempt.

Her finger tips brushed the tips of her nipples, barely stronger than the breeze. She rolled the peaked buds across the palm of her hand, not pinching, not pushing just moving. Another drop of chocolate.

Feeling surer of herself Lydia squeezed her breasts, pulling them each higher for a moment until she felt that satisfying weight. The wind kissed her skin and she realized she had become flushed.

The chocolate coated her tongue as she moved her hand farther down. Lydia spread her legs until she found the comfortable position she always used when she wanted to please herself. Her fingers were teasing and light with a skill that no man had ever matched.

No one knew her body the way she did. If she so desired she could make herself fall to pieces in a matter of minutes. The right twist of a finger, the perfect depth, a pressure that would leave her breathless and fulfilled. But tonight she didn’t rush towards her peak. She had to draw it out.

Until the taste of blackness on her tongue was so strong she ached for water or wine.

The text had been clear. So Lydia teased herself. She brushed her clit with the barest of pressure. Let the wind kiss her delicate skin. She ran her hands down her legs and over her hips. Touched her collarbone with a sureness and swiftness.

Scrapped her nails across her arms and abdomen. Never really getting to the climax she now craved. It was torture. And she kept placing the thin droplets of rich chocolate on her tongue. Consumed by the taste and the anticipation.

She grew frustrated faster than she had expected. If she had been at home she could have kept going for hours just enjoying the pleasure, but somehow out here in the forest she craved more. It wasn’t enough anymore to rub patterns on her clit or slide her fingers against her folds.

She NEEDED release.

_When the ache of wanting reaches highest pitch than darkness and desire must met on the supplicant’s lips._

Lydia took the hand from between her legs and brought it to her lips. A chocolate drop had not even begun to melt when she sucked the taste of herself off her middle finger and whispered:

“I need you demon king.”

It was a breathless moan that escaped her lips, not the powerful tone she had practiced in her head. She could hear the true want in her own voice and was terrified of what that meant.

There was no flash of lightning, not stench of sulfur or flames. The world did not tumble. Lydia simply opened eyes she had not realized where closed to find him above her.

He was decadent, his body a warm blanket of naked skin above her. She had read the ancient texts that proclaimed him handsome but was not prepared for the way the sight of him punched her with want. His eyes swirled in hues of reds, blues, golds and an almost human grey. His hair was cropped closer to his head than she would have expected, artfully styled. The demon king was braced above her on his elbows. She could feel him less than a breath away from her body all the way down to her toes. He smiled at her with a heat and knowing that left her aching to be filled.

“I have not been summoned this way for thousands of years, little banshee.” His voice rumbled against her, the movement brushing his chest against her aching nipples. Lydia arched into the friction and his hands moved to hold her down. Not tightly or painfully but lightly in warning.

“Please.” She burned with need. Lydia hazily realized why this was the less chosen ritual at least, really realized. A person could retain their wits after slitting a throat but in her current state she was too needy to be as quick witted as she needed to be. He would be in control here and it terrified her. And it thrilled her.

“I will take care of you little one.” His breathe tasted like wood smoke on her lips. “I only ask you tell me what desire has brought a creature of your talents to offer herself to me?” He leaned forward and ran his lower lip along the shell of her ear. That one touch felt better than every orgasm she had in college but it did not release her. “Tell me that and you shall be freed from this torment.”

Lydia quaked with the promise in his tone.

“A life.” She exhaled. “A soul in your domain.” He pulled back to look into her eyes, and once of shock and something else sparked there before vanishing.

“A lover?” His growl on that word answered what else had been in his eyes. Jealousy. Lydia didn’t feel strong enough to respond shaking her head mutely. The movement rustled her hair and his eyes left her face to admire the rose gold locks.

“A friend and sister.” She answered feeling the pain of the truth again. His eyes tightened in a smirk.

“You shall have her, little banshee.” The king of all of the underworld leaned into Lydia until their mouths were brushing at each exhale. “But my price is that you must scream for me.”

Her blood should have run cold at the suggestion. She should have stood then and exited the circle. For a Banshee to scream for someone on request. It was. She would belong to him in a way that would be unbreakable. Her kind screamed to warn, to mourn, to acknowledge. They could do it on command but it was considered sacred. Something done only for a person who was trusted. Who could be considered worthy of knowing how to stop their own demise. To have a banshee in a bond of that kind meant the person was never in any danger. Enemies’ weaknesses could be found with a parting of her lips.

* * *

 

He would be unstoppable. Tethered to her he could leave his kingdom at will and roam the mortal plane. She would be tied to him for eternity. In her death she would go to him in the underworld and remain with him until the world was unmade and the stars burned out.

“I accept.” The words felt ripped out of her. Not because she was forced to say them but because they felt like she had been waiting to say them all her life. As if everything had led to this moment in the woods with chocolate on her tongue and the king of demons at her lips.

He exhaled, in what might be relief or pleasure. The smell of a thousand burning forests brushing over her.

And then she was consumed.

His mouth on hers was forceful, but not aggressive. He drank from her thirstily, sucking the flavor of the chocolate from her tongue and chewing the taste of honey and berries off her lips. His hands in her hair tangled to just the right pressure. He wasn’t clumsy or thick fingered, no strand was pulled beyond the lightest of tugs. It was a skillful twist of his wrist and her hair was wrapped around his hand, his nails scratching her scalp.

It was pleasure so sweet and soft if felt like pain.

“You taste like mine.” He moaned into her abused lips. It was the first sign that she might be affecting him just as much. Well not the first sign, but the demon king was a man and Lydia knew the affect she had on men.

“I need you.” Lydia told him, and she did. The wetness between her thighs was dampening the moss with each passing second. She was frustrated and horny. Yet her body felt plait and relaxed in his hold. It was infuriating.

“You shall have me,” His teeth tugged her lower lip out. “I am going to drink of you until you beg me to stop.” He whispered into her throat, pulling her head to the side with the hold in her hair. “You are going to experience pleasure like you never dreamed.” Canines scrapped across her pulse drawing sharp lines of fire in her skin.  “You will beg me,” He told her. “And then you will scream for me.”

His attention to her neck was as deliberate and powerful as it had been on her mouth. He sucked and licked and bit into her flesh until Lydia knew she was stained purple by him.

Lydia dragged her nails down his back in ecstasy. His skin sizzled where it broke under her nails, the blood scenting the air with brandy.  This was exquisite. Mind numbingly perfect and they were barely past making out. It made her bold.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer with the strength of her thighs. He had been hovering above her, keeping their only points of contact to his mouth and hands. It left Lydia starved for him.

He was so consumed with his destruction of her throat that she had him pressing into her before he realized. The hand in her hair yanked painfully pulling her head back so far she could barely see him. His other hand pressed her hips back to the damp ground.

“Impatience,” He growled, “will not be rewarded in this instance.” He shifted out of the grip of her legs. “Bind her.” He commanded.

If Lydia had not be tilted so far back that she could see the ring of candles she would not have seen the creature appear. A black dog the size of a bear with a smooth coat and molten gold eyes stepped from the blackness outside the circle. As it stepped over the invisible line the candles formed it changed into a man as graceful and nude as the dog had been.

_Hellhound._ The personal servants of the king.

The hound reached for the silken rope above Lydia’s head and held it off the ground. The King untangled himself from her and with a whisper of kisses and coaxing smoothed her arms above her head. It was such a gentle caress, so sweet and tender that Lydia could not be sure if he led her or if she led him.

The rope was around her wrists and forearms. A delicate perfect series of loops and twists. It was more elaborate than what Lydia had found on the bondage websites she had visited. Almost as if there was more to it than simply keeping her hands tied. As if the tying were symbolic more of the ties she now forge with this demon king.

The hound holds the rope pressed against the ground as the king glides down her. He stops to feast on her breasts. His teeth bite into one nipple and then the other so quickly Lydia gasps in surprise. His hands cupped her and found that perfect grip and pressure that left her chest thrumming.

“Your skin tastes like sunlight.” The king proclaimed to her abdomen, his tongue tasting her slowly. His exploration of her body was agony. Without his heat above her the cooling night left her shivering. He took his time finding places she had not known existed. A spot between two ribs that was so sensitive to touch that a brush of his eyelashes left her moaning. A knot of muscle near her hip that was tense with need that he massaged loose.

Lydia was wound so tight, so desperate to come that the first touch of his lips against her clit sent her tumbling over the edge into a dark oblivion. She had read once that women could orgasm with their entire brain, nearly all synapses firing at once. It felt like a hard reset of her brain, going off line and coming back to full power in a matter of seconds.

Panting, Lydia lifted her head to gaze down at the demon king between her thighs. His eyes glowed with his power and his smile was as dark as the night around them. As the seconds expanded Lydia realized he was waiting for her to give him a sign. She nodded.

He licked her like a kitten. Tentative slow drags of the tip of his tongue. His eyes never leaving hers, boring into her soul while his mouth drank her. Lydia felt powerful, even with her arms tied and held by a beast of the underworld, she was at his mercy but she was so very in control as well.

The burning in her blood had lessened but Lydia was no less hungry for him.

“I thought you said you would drink me in?” She teased, her voice breathy and light. He raised his eyebrows but did not raise his head. “Get on with it.” Lydia told him. He licked his lips and opened his jaw wide.

The demon king had a forked tongue. It unfurled from the shape it had held before. His mouth lowered to her and Lydia gasped. It was hard to find a man who knew what to do with his mouth on a woman. They just didn’t know how to eat properly. The only time Lydia had ever enjoyed head before had been when she had been with a woman.

This was better. It was like he could read her needs in her eyes. Still holding Lydia’s gaze the demon king fucked her open and sucked her down. The tips of his tongue forked around her clit and swiveled until she was close again, so close. Her breath grew short and a high keening noise escaped from her lips. It was wonderful and beautiful but she needed more.

Seeing it in or eyes or hearing it in her body it did not matter because he obeyed. He savaged her. His tongue going far and his lips pressing her open. Lydia fractured under the onslaught. A shiver rippling through her body and a punch of sound escaping her lips. That had almost been a Scream. Hands brushed against her legs and butt, soothing tremors until she was simply panting from the high.

The demon king stood then and walked over to the unopened bottle of Port. He took a cork screw out and opened the bottle with a methodical expert motion. For the first time since the summoning Lydia got to see all of him, her new master. He had a body that was not common among men, it hadn’t been sculpted in a gym or through some program. It was the body of a person who had trained on a battle field and could kill legions. It left her throat parched at the sight of him. Who knew she could be so enamored with calves.

The real prize stood between his legs. A glorious statue to the ways of old and proof of a virility that could not be denied. It was beautiful, in its length and width. A sculpture covered in velvet soft skin. He watch her staring. Lydia swallowed, thirsty for him.

He glanced at the three cups she had laid out earlier in the night. The ritual had claimed that he would choose one to drink from and it would be a symbol of their contract. His mouth pursed in a frown.

“I have a better idea.” He stalked forward until he was between her legs again and kneeled. The bottle just behind his back he leaned over her and took her bound wrist from the hellhound, drawing her with him has he returned to his kneel.

The hound followed and stood behind Lydia holding her bound wrists aloft. The demon king reached behind his back and produced the bottle. His other hand cupped her jaw.

“You will be my cup, golden one.” It was praise and savagery. A pet name and the cup. The old stories spoke that the first contract ever held with the demon king had been with a cup of gold made red with rubies. Lydia gasped and he poured the wine into her mouth.

She swallowed the first mouthful and the second she was so thirsty. He let her without even a twitch or a breath. The third she savored for a moment. The taste of the sweet wine mixed with the last of the dark chocolate on her tongue and the traces of wood smoke of his lips. She moaned. The fourth time he poured she held her jaw loose and tilted her head down ever so slightly so that he could meet her lips and drink it from her.

He met her open mouthed and ready. It should have been strange, like a play or an act. She had seen something like this in a poorly filmed porn once and thought it odd and utterly unsexy. She had been wrong about that. He drank from her mouth, licking the drops from her lips his tongue back to a human shape. Three times he poured into her mouth and three times she gave him the wine to drink. That sealed their contract.

He poured the wine into his own mouth and leaned up to her, offering a drink. Lydia was confused, that was not part of the ritual but thirsty, parched even after all the activities. She opened for him letting the wine slip from his mouth to hers, droplets running down her chin onto her chest.

In a movement she did not expect he was inside her in a single elegant thrust, just as Lydia swallowed the wine he had offered. The heat of him inside of her and the taste of wine on her lips sent Lydia tumbling over a peak she hadn’t know she had been approaching.

“You fall apart so beautifully.” The king moaned into her mouth as he thrust into her, his hands roaming her body in mindless exploration. “I could quench my thirst with you for a life time.” He spoke between savage passionate kisses.

Lydia had never been so loved, so possessed. She felt taken and given in the same moment. A pure sense of eroticism washed over her. It had been foolish to think she was meant for anything but this. This moment, this man, it was what all of her being had been built for, a climax of soul. The death and pain of her life leading her to him. Her drive and desire preparing her for this moment.

“Together we will rule this world and the next,” He promised on a thrust. “Golden one.” He called her. “Little Banshee.” He named her. “Mine.” He claimed her.

They broke apart together, coming together into a new piece, a reformed being. Her soul now a part of his.

The ropes on her wrists untied slowly as the hellhound released her. Lydia slumped into the demon king’s embrace, utterly spent. He laid back on the moss with her on top of him.

Now. Her moment was now.

Lydia reached above them to grab the other rope, the one they had left unused and secured his hands in a matter of seconds. The hound didn’t even seem to notice or care and the king looked amused at her antics.

“More?” He asked with a smirk.

“Not exactly.” Lydia told him as she plunged her hand into his chest.  He gasped in horror and rage.

This spell had taken much longer to prepare than the ritual. The magic needed to force a mortal hand through an immortal chest. The ingredients had been expensive or impossible to get. Lydia had killed two men in Thailand for the most crucial component. Months of travel and then nearly a year of brewing the spell until it was tick and red to paint on her nails, but it was all worth it.

Her hand came out of his chest drenched in his demon dark blood, a small piece of his heart in her fingertips.

The demon’s breath was labored but his eyes promised an eternity of misery. Good.

Lydia held his gaze as she swallowed the chunk of his heart whole and licked the blood from her hand. It tasted like Port, Sex, and overly charred meat. Lydia smiled.

“Mine.” She claimed him.

* * *

 

He had not been summoned like this in over millennia. The last soul to try this way had been the bitch that trapped him into the other ritual, the one where he was FORCED to obey.

It had been a joy to scent her in his home. Sitting on the throne and feeling the slow tingle on his spine as the taste of chocolate filled his mouth and the sound of her moans echoed in his ears. He had stripped with purposeful pleasure to know that he would have a treat this once. He had had enough of being summoned by drunken angry men or grief stricken women begging for help. He had even bored of being summoned by those who were nothing more than power hungry. It was time for him to get his.

He was astonished to find the woman in the circle of the candles to be a Banshee. Overjoyed. A Banshee was a special creature, rare in the entire world and more powerful than anyone knew.

He would claim her, body and soul. It didn’t matter what she requested he would grant it and return she would be his.

Her soul showed him a woman with raven hair and cocoa eyes with a sword in her chest. He remembered that soul, a huntress. A worthy prize.

He had been so pleased, so content in this trade and in HER. She was delicious. He had not played with way with another for too long. A feast for his mouth and sexual hunger. That’s why she was able to disarm him. To incapacitate him so.

A terrible sight to behold. Her body was covered with a find sheen of sweat from their activities, her breast stained with the wine that had slipped from her lips and now his blood painted her mouth red and ran rivulets down her arm. A goddess. A demon queen.

She was going to pay.

How dare she bind him to her will. They were now interbond. EQUALS. It made him furious and there was so little he could do now to punish her for this hubris.

With a snap of his fingers the rope around his wrists was vanished and instead on her ankles, spreading her legs wide in the mossy ground. He couldn’t torture her, but he would give her such pleasure that she would wish he could give her pain.

“You will live to regret that.” He promised.

“I know.” She teased, her breath excited.

He pulled out from her and stalked around her now kneeling body. The question was what would best break her. His eyes drifted to the hound. Hmmm.

Kneeling behind her he drove himself into her with a powerful and relentless thrust. Rejoined he pulled her true name from her soul.

“I am going to really fuck you now Lydia.” He told her. The next thrust drove her to her hands, now on all fours she gasped beautifully.

“This all you got?” She mocked him even while she dripped with desire for him.  He pulled her hair painfully this time back until she was forced into a brutal kiss. She met him with teeth. Lydia. His Queen was as vicious as he was and it pleased him.

He released her now that the other part of his plan was in place, the hound had followed his unspoken command. Returned to the human shape the hellhound was laying below them with its face between Lydia’s legs and it’s now erect cock where her mouth would be.

“Let’s fill that mouth of yours.”

He barely had to push Lydia back down onto the hound. Only release her hair and she fell on him, swallowing the hound without protest, moaning even. With her mouth occupied and her clit under the attentions of his servant he was now ready to release himself.

It was not the perfect beautiful thrust he had given her before. He let go of the reins he had held on himself fucking into her with everything he had. She screamed, the noise swallowed by the cock in her mouth. She would be bruised from his hand on her hips, marked up from where his teeth held her at the shoulder.

The hound pinched her nipples as it drank the wave of pleasure she released.

“You will never be rid of me.” He told her. “You are going to feel such pleasure my Lydia that you will beg me to hurt you.” He whispered into her skin. “That’s the secret those mortal men could never understand about you. You don’t want their gentle attentions or their pathetic love. You need the real romance that only I can offer you, with blood and pain and darkness. I will enjoy serving you for eternity as much as you will enjoy screaming for me.”

Lydia wasn’t much more now than a shaking coming mess. With this level of stimulus she was kept at a point of peak over and over again. He had not lived this long to be anything less that earth shattering in bed.

When she started to tense around him to the point of a constant hold he pulled her back to his chest and off the hound. Her had rested against his shoulder as she panted and moaned. One hand reached for her clit and the other pulled at her nipples.

“Scream.” He commanded and bit into her neck with his canines.

She screamed. A Banshee scream. The power of it washed over him and the circle of the candles. The hound bellow them released its ecstasy at the sound.  The world shifted.

He came inside of her as her voice rewrote his future and told him all he needed to know to conquer his enemies.

The mortal realm would tremble at the pair of them.

* * *

 

“ _Get your boy on his knees and repeat after me, say take a sip of my secret potion….._

Lydia’s phone was ringing non-stop.

_“I’ll make you fall in love. For a spell that can’t be broken….”_

She groaned and buried her head under her pillow praying that the phone would stop. It stopped for about two seconds before the ringtone started up again.

_“…..I got the recipe and it’s called Black Magic.”_

Lydia reached blindly onto the end table and grabbed her phone answering it with the thumb print recognition.

“llo?” Lydia managed. Her throat was raw and she really needed water.

“This is not okay Lydia.” Allison told her. “You do not get to leave a note that reads ‘Having just engaged sex call you in 3 days.’”

“Huh?” Lydia tried to remember writing that note.

“I mean I completely understand that you and Peter have to go out to your sex cabin in the woods so you don’t freak out the neighbors when you have a sex marathon, but you are supposed to tell me in person so I can freak out over the ring with you.” Lydia looked at her left hand to see a rather impressive solitary diamond that looked like it was lit with an inner fire.

“It’s huge.” She told her best friend.

“Of course it is Parrish helped him pick it out.” Allison sounded excited. “Are you vertical?”

“No.” Lydia told her the truth as she buried herself deeper into the sheets.

“Well it’s almost one in the afternoon so you need to drink some orange juice. No fainting due to sex-a-thons.”

“hmmm.” Lydia hummed falling back to sleep.

“I love you. Eat real food before you let the fiancé ravage you again.” Allison told her.

“Yup.” Lydia agreed. “Love you too.”

The line disconnected and Lydia threw her phone blindly across the room and listened to it thud. The bed shifted behind her and a warm body pulled her into a spooning position. Lydia sighed as Peter kissed her neck sleepily.

Peter Hale.

Her fiancé.

‘ _And it’s called black magic._ ’ Rang in her head.

Lydia sat up in bed and pushed the demon king off of her. Allison was alive. That hadn’t been a dream. And they were… roommates. Allison worked with a man named Kyle Parrish who was a Hellhound and they along with the help of their friends dealt with supernatural problems. But, Allison had died.

No she hadn’t.  Allison had been stabbed yes but Peter had shown up in time to use magic and save her life. It was all wrong... it was different.

“You!” Lydia accused the man in the bed next to her. They were in a king sized bed in a luxury cabin she had never seen before but also had been in many times.

“Yes love?” Peter asked lazily stretching in the bed. He was half covered in hickies and Lydia could see matching marks on her shoulders and thighs.

“What did you do Demon King?” Lydia demanded pressing on his windpipe.

“Exactly what you asked. I brought your friend back. Made it like she was never gone, because now she never was.” He smirked. “You are the one that put me here,” Peter gestured to the bed. “I would have been content visiting you in the mortal realm from time to time and waiting for you to join me on my throne. But someone ate a piece of my heart.”

“So you added yourself to my life and became my fiancé?”

“That’s traditionally what a man does when he admits that a woman owns a piece of his heart and soul.” Lydia let go of his throat. Her hands were sore. She hurt in every possible way and was sore in places she didn’t know existed.

Her mind was racing, running through two sets of memories. One filled with her friends and terror. Allison dying and the bleak aftermath. Being toyed with by psychotic doctors. College after therapy and years of planning her moment. The other filled with near misses and scrapes. Allison being saved by Peter Hale warlock extraordinaire. Their courtship in the midst of fighting off supernatural attacks. Going to college whole and healthy with friends and support. Sex with Peter. Dating Peter. Loving Peter.

“That last part is a bit much don’t you think.” Lydia pointed out to him. “Why make yourself Derek’s uncle?” That wasn’t what she had meant to say, she had meant to question him about her deep rooted feelings of love for him. The way she trusted him.

“That boy needed a family and there was already someone who fit roughly the description,” An eyebrow quirk to indicate his physique. “I just combined the man who had existed before with myself. It was a rather elegant solution.

“Shouldn’t that make you a werewolf?” Lydia rolled her eyes but in her gut she was impressed with his body. Still impressed rather.

“Didn’t fit.” He shrugged. “Are we going to sit in bed and argue all the changes I made or are we going to go have some coffee and fuck on the kitchen floor?” He kissed her slow and sweet and tender with his hand rubbing her bruised shoulder. Lydia pulled back and looked into his eyes.

Honestly what else could she do right now? He was caged here in the mortal world until she died and he couldn’t raise a hand against her, not with his heart inside of her. She was protected and equal to him in power now. Allison was alive, and happy with a full life. It wasn’t like he could unleash his demon powers and burn the world down. The worst he could do would be elected president.

Which he might do.

If Lydia didn’t beat him by taking over the bioengineering firm she worked at and lobbying against him.

“Yes to coffee, no to fucking on the kitchen floor.” Lydia smiled softly at his faint pout. “Shower sex instead.” He grinned.

“My queen.” Peter bowed his head to her then sprang from his place in the bed to lift her bodily over his shoulder striding naked into the kitchen.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you find the number of orgasms excessive then I am sorry but I have gotten to that number on several occasions. 
> 
> Happy Halloween Pydia Pack!


End file.
